


skin like a screen

by wordcatchers



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcatchers/pseuds/wordcatchers
Summary: yesterday stays, but it doesn't hold them any longer as it once did so tightly.they feel each other as it was meant to be, without the world hanging over them.





	skin like a screen

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... right now this basically just stands as shameless smut for smut's sake. May or may not add another chapter, and if said chapter is added, may or may not have a semblance of plot to it. 'Tis just a bunch of maybes.
> 
> Title is taken from the song "Black Screen" by Sin Fang, Sóley, and Örvar Smárason. Great song, that.

_seven years later; chloe: 26, max: 25._

\- - - 

The door to the low-lit shop closes, a small trail of smoke escaping from within. She stuffs her hands into her pockets, joining Chloe in the alleyway. What, or rather who, they’d come for, had left because of “urgent business,” leaving them to… not a _bad_ situation, really. They’d been in worse. Far, far worse than some hit-and-miss vape shop. Neither of them did it, and the only thing that’d happened was getting kicked out because they didn’t want anything smoked in there _but_ e-cigs. Chloe had left in a huff, flipping the manager off.

 _“Y’know hitting_ this _,”_ she’d said in their short layover in the bathroom, gesturing to her joint, _“It’s better than those vape heads.”_

Max had leant in, kissing Chloe on her cheek, murmuring affirmation. Neither of them smoked as much as when they were in their late teens and early twenties, but it had its… mental health benefits. Legal. Both of them, after what’d happened in Arcadia Bay, had a real live prescription for the stuff. _“Use as needed for post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms.”_

As needed turned into accountability journal keeping for the both of them, spurred on at Kate’s insistence, bless the woman. She still had their best interests at heart now, even from an entire coast away. And tonight--tonight due to that journal, they both knew they were due for some joint therapy.

Chloe’s still smoking it, leaning against the outer brick wall of the club. Breathing a stream of it out slowly, she turns to Max and a smirk appears on her face. “Out here we can smoke whateeeever the fuck we want. Care to join, Maximus?”

At the old yet tried-and-true nickname, Max giggles and takes the proffered joint. She still remembers her first few times, coughing and sputtering until she got used to the process; the feel of it in her, then out, rinse and repeat. The results were so soothing on her wastescape of a mind that they outweighed any embarrassment at trying again and again until she stopped failing so miserably at smoking weed.

“Vic’s still as much of a bitch now as she was back then, y’know.”

Max exhales sooner than she’d planned.

“C’mon, Chloe, she’s not _that_ horrible.” She bumps her shoulder against Chloe’s, passing the joint back over to her. “She seriously did look like something important popped up on her phone that she had to get to.”

Chloe shrugs, blowing larger and larger O-rings from between her lips. Yet the rings don’t really hold Max’s attention as they used to; she knows Chloe can do far more complicated shapes than that, has known for years. It’d become kind of a hobby for her, and now Max only has to ask for something else, and chances are, she can do it.

In the small lights that filter through into this alleyway on the outskirts of LA, all she can really focus on tonight though, is the way the shadows fall across Chloe’s face; specifically, her lips. It’ll make for a fine photograph.

She still carries around at least one camera always, if not two. Stooping down, she digs through her messenger bag. There’s one compartment separate from the rest of it, where she always puts her cameras and lenses. The rest is for notebooks and anything else she thinks she’ll need.

The shot’s framed a few seconds later: simple, only slightly tilted, and mildly shorten the exposure. Chloe doesn’t pay her any mind now, not as if she ever did after she really, _really_ got into photography and hardly ever stopped taking pictures. That was back when they were preteens, before...

_Click._

Once, twice more. No, three more times. She needs enough to pick the best out, keeping the others for their private collection that’s been growing since they were little, awkward things. They still _are_ awkward, but not quite so little anymore.

Max slides her tongue over her bottom lip, then places the camera back in her bag, getting up on her feet again.

“Hope they come out alright; knowing you, though, they’re all gonna be perfect,” Chloe murmurs, eyes shut, a soft smile on her face as smoke rises from the end of the joint between her fingers.

Max opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind and closes the small distance between the two of them, kissing the edge of Chloe’s lips. Chloe’s eyes open to slits, trained towards her. She makes a small noise, then wraps an arm around Max, pulling her close. The joint’s almost at its end; she snuffs it out between her thumb and forefinger, leaving it behind on the ground next to them.

“Didn’t want to finish it?” Max asks, wrapping her arms around Chloe. She shrugs, placing kisses atop Max’s head.

“No longer a total pothead, right?”

“Mmm, but you were always my dumbass pothead.”

“Wow, total vote of confidence there, Mad Max,” but there’s not a trace of negativity in her voice. She chuckles instead, dipping her head and rubbing against the crook of Max’s neck, stopping every so often to kiss and slightly suckle, nothing hard enough to leave any sort of mark.

Sometimes Max hates how easily Chloe gets to her, almost like they’re teenagers again, having their first time together. She still makes the same tiny whimpering noise, and Chloe grins into her skin, reveling in the fact that she’s the one causing this reaction in her. But as the years have faded on, she knows exactly what Chloe likes as well.

“You are…”--she pauses, placing her right leg in between Chloe’s thighs, raising it slightly, brushing back and forth against the crotch of Chloe’s jeans--“such an asshole, y’know that?” She bites her tongue as Chloe instinctively grits her teeth, catching some of the skin on her neck with it. It’ll leave a bit of a mark, but she doesn’t give a damn.

She only wants to make Chloe happy.

(And hey, two can play at this game.)

Max rubs against Chloe, eliciting a whimpered, soft moan from her. They interlock fingers of one pair of hands, the other two roaming, roaming, roaming. Max shivers at the contact of Chloe’s bare fingers dancing underneath her shirt, lightly gliding over her back only to dig in seconds later. She bites her lip, pushing her head slightly against Chloe’s chest.

“Mmm, we should,” she pauses, gasps as Chloe’s cool hand goes under her bra cup, teasing her skin. “Let’s go a bit more down, more private?” Two meanings. Chloe understands.

They disentangle for a few moments, only hand-in-hand, venturing further away from where they were, further from people and prying eyes and lights. They hadn’t intended for this visit to end up like this, but with Victoria ditching, and nothing else planned until supper, well.

She loves Chloe.

She loves the way her hand feels in hers.

She loves that they know everything about each other, and five years apart hadn’t shattered them like she had feared so much that it might.

These days, there isn’t any more room for fear between them, this relationship.

(It’s been seven years since then.)

In another alleyway, more desolate than where they’d started, with only one flickering, distant light post for illumination, Max tilts her chin up and kisses Chloe. A hand wanders, fingers running along the edge of Chloe’s jeans. The sensation makes Chloe shiver, tucking her head in at the crook of Max’s neck, slouching some against the brick wall.

“I love you,” Max whispers, unbuttoning and unzipping her girlfriend’s jeans. She tucks a hand inside, underneath the elastic and fabric of her underwear. Chloe’s hands are on her hips, and Max feels their grip tighten against her, the tips of her fingers pressing in.

Chloe doesn’t shave or trim; Max threads her fingers through, smirking as Chloe involuntarily twitches at certain pressure points. She ventures further down, fingers spread apart as they run over her folds, teasing inside; she’s already somewhat wet.

“Max…” Chloe’s voice is barely a whisper, straining. She’s leaning her head back against the brick wall now, breathing staggered from the sensations of Max’s fingers on her. Max presses a lingering kiss to Chloe’s jawline, just as she presses further into her folds, her thumb stroking her clit. Chloe softly moans at the contact, letting her head fall back down against Max’s shoulder again.

She remembers the first time they’d ever done anything like this; the fear and the exhilaration, the _chance_ of being caught. It’s still there for them both. Desire pools more and more around her lower abdomen, and with her free hand she finds one of Chloe’s, entangling their fingers together. Her other hand, her other _thumb_ , rubs against Chloe faster, then slows. Chloe grunts and bucks up against Max’s hand.

 _“Please_ , Max,” she breathes out, digging her nails into Max’s other hand.

Max purses her lips at the sensation. Part of her wants to make Chloe wait, and beg. She hears the crackling sound of the street light flickering on and off in the dark, distant noises hopefully blocks away. All she really wants, though, is to make Chloe happy, to be the one who…

One finger slowly inside of her; _God,_ she’s wet. Max’s heart pounds, she can hardly hear anything anymore. It’s all tunnel vision, desire, _want._ While her thumb rubs against Chloe, her finger enters her, gently followed by a second. Chloe’s slick, and knowing it’s because of _her_ , she’ll never comprehend how lucky she is. But she loves it.

She loves _Chloe_.

The small noises she makes: whimpers, cut-off moans as she tries to restrain her impulses in public like this. The way her body simply _reacts_ : thighs trembling, short fingernails digging into Max’s skin. Max adores her, and she does everything she can to make sure Chloe feels it inside of her. She lifts her thumb, lets Chloe whine and buck her hips again, quivering from Max’s fingers inside of her. Only when Chloe kisses her collarbone, slightly biting down on her skin, does Max rest the tip of her thumb against her again.

She rubs in choppily paced circles for a bit, then returns to the fingers inside of Chloe, rhythm slow, but anything but methodical. Chloe’s soft panting pushes her on, and she focuses on every single thing she’s learned about what Chloe loves the most. Some mix of unpredictability and safety. All at once, she halts her fingers inside of her, focusing only on rubbing, pressing down as hard as she can.

She relishes the hiss that comes from Chloe, and…

“ _Fuck,_ Max.”

Chloe takes both her hands and grabs Max’s face, pulling Max towards her, kissing her. Her hands are sweaty and warm against her cheeks, Chloe’s lips desperate against her own, pouring everything out so messily as their noses bump and they giggle like idiots. Max smiles against Chloe’s lips, returning to thrusting her fingers inside of her as they pull their faces away slightly. Just so, _so_ slightly, as she still easily sees Chloe’s eyelids flutter shut at the sensation starting again.

She’s gorgeous.

It’s in an upwards thrust of her fingers and ever quickening of her thumb rubbing against her girlfriend’s clit that Chloe comes in another few minutes, thighs shaking and warmth seeping out of her. Her breaths that had been coming so quickly and erratically right before now raggedly slow down until she opens her eyes and smiles at Max, running a hand gently through her hair.

“God, I love you,” she says, just as Max pulls out.

She doesn’t know how they do it, how they manage to pull shit like this off, but she loves it more than anything. With her hand out of Chloe’s jeans again, she raises her forefinger and middle finger to her lips, wrapping them around and tasting her. Chloe zips and buttons herself up, rubbing her hand down there once more before putting an arm around Max, leading her out of the alley.

“Do I taste good?” she whispers into Max’s ear, her tone lilting. Max almost wants to slap her, if only for being such a fucking tease.

She breaks away from Chloe, walking backwards on the sidewalk, hands behind her back.

“Maybe I’ll tell you back at our hotel, if you’re good to me.”

Chloe cracks her knuckles, as always taking everything as a challenge if remotely phrased that way. She grins like a mischievous imp, closing the distance and kissing Max as hard as she ever has, almost literally knocking her off her feet - but she catches her around the back. They’re flush against each other again, and Max shuts her eyes, breathes heavy as they lean their foreheads against one another.

“Let’s go back, then,” Chloe says, and a car passes by them, the wind catching in their hair.


End file.
